


The Female Bird of Prey is a Falcon

by okrablossom



Category: The Maltese Falcon (1941)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 09:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1852774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okrablossom/pseuds/okrablossom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Effie Perine and Iva Archer turn the tables on Sam Spade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Female Bird of Prey is a Falcon

"No, no, Iva, you have to go to the office and beg Sam," Effie Perine says, adjusting Iva's hat and repinning it. "He will expect it. It will infuriate him. And if we don't do what he expects, he'll figure us out."

Iva pouts, because she's good at it and it makes Effie melt inside. Iva's smile broadens into smugness. "Yes, dear," patting Effie's cheek, "you know best, you're the clever one." Iva stares into Effie's eyes, her hands gently on either side of Effie's face. "Sam will never figure you out." Slowly, Iva runs her fingers from Effie's temples, down her face, her throat, bringing them together at the V in her dress, pressing in. "Must I?"

The pout is back and Effie swallows hard, unable to take her eyes from Iva's eyes. She is not thinking of Sam, she is recalling the first time Iva came into the office, after Sam snubbed her, how upset Iva had been, how she'd wiped Iva's tears, sat her on Effie's desk and stroked her knees, toying with the hem of her dress, massaging the outer lines of her thighs until Iva had stopped crying and began moaning in the depths of her throat, in time to Effie's hands. The last thing Effie had thought as Iva unbuttoned her dress and pulled Effie's head to her nipples was that they needed a plan.

And here they are, with a clever plan, Effie wet with need for Iva's hand between her legs, another love scuffle on her desk---she should go with Iva, keep up her pretense as secretary---the thrill of having out-thought Sam Spade who often doubted she thought at all. Was she going to ruin her plan for Iva's lips and Iva's whine in her ears, the full moons of Iva's breasts in her mouth, licking and teasing her nipples like honeysuckle flowers? When she could spend the rest of her life, after this, down on her knees making Iva come?

"Effie, kiss me, sweet." Iva is implacable. Effie slides her tongue into Iva's mouth, slides her finger under her dress, crushing the fabric up to her waist, thinking nothing and feeling everything. Iva's fingers find her clit and the waves of love come, loudly---no, that's the clock striking the hour and the two women pull their bodies apart, wet everywhere, fixing clothing, hands staying too long on the other's body.

Effie swallows. "Take your own car. We've got to go separately. Give me a ten minute head start." She licks her lips, still throbbing in time to Iva's breaths. "You've got to make him leave in a huff. He can never know I've got the real falcon here, in the icebox, that I switched it when he told me to retrieve it, or that our buyer is all set to meet us tomorrow morning in San Francisco."

"Oh, Effie, I love it when you talk smart." Iva's kisses leave pink marks on Effie's throat. Hips swaying, Iva walks to the door, her sashay making certain Effie's eyes follow her bottom out the door.

If she didn't have to lock up and leave, she could get herself off. She's out-detectived the private dick, stolen the girl, and gotten the money of a lifetime. She's almost satisfied.


End file.
